My Journal 158

When is enough really enough?

I was out with HMPOA one night and asked her one of my thought provoking questions. I said, “If two people love each other, but just can’t seem to get it all together, when does one of them say enough is enough and quit?”

Without missing a beat my good friend said, “Never! If two people love each other you never give up no matter what.”

Love must be a pretty powerful emotion. As she was giving me this touching answer I asked myself a question. I wondered what love is, how it feels, and how do you know when it’s love. I don’t think that there is a universal answer to this question. It’s probably not something you could Google either.

People have told me that they love me, but I’ve also learned that the word “love” can be used to mean friendship as well as any other definition. Actually, in my troubled youth, I used to tell girls I loved then just so I could screw them. So my next question was how does one know if they are loved, by their own definition?

I have no answer to either question. I did find someone once that made me feel very different. I’m not sure what the feeling was, but I do know that it threw me for a loop. I couldn’t be me around this person. I thought about her more than anyone before. I would see things and my first thought would be that I wished she could see it too. And whenever we were together there was nothing else going on in the world but her. Maybe that feeling was love.

So, being the analytical person that I am, I wondered the odds of two people falling in love. If everyone may have a different definition of love and with billions of people in the world, how do you know that the ONE person that was THE ONE for you didn’t walk right past you while you were texting someone else? You may have been sitting right next to “the one” on a bus, but because you had a pimple that day you didn’t say a word.

Think about it. You may fall in love with someone, but it doesn’t work unless they are in love with you too. And what about timing? Suppose they fall in love with you, but at that moment you don’t believe in love, or just don’t feel it yet? Suppose that they become embarrassed and decided to move on before you realize your feelings?

And what about the concept of love at first sight. If you are to fall in love, do you know it immediately? Can you find someone, have a casual relationship that evolves to a friendly relationship and EVENTUALLY blossoms into love?

And what are the odds that you are ever even are in the same vicinity as this one person for you. The earth is a big place. Hell, I can’t even find roofing nails at Lowes and they have maps and people to point you in the right direction. How are you supposed to find that one person for you?

And what if timing isn’t the issue? What if you fall in love with someone who isn’t and won’t fall in love with you? Is it a waste of time to try?

After contemplating all the complexities involved in two people falling in love, and imagining I can calculate the odds of it EVER happening, then I tend to agree with HMPOA. If you ever do find that one person, and you fall in love, and they are in love with you; then don’t ever stop working on it! No matter what, keep trying.

Now then, if I actually buy into my own bullshit then I wonder why I ever gave up on that person that made me feel different. There were probably a dozen reasons why, but the biggest was that I did believe my thoughts were NOT being reciprocated by this person. I felt that they didn’t feel like I felt. But I didn’t know it. Did I give up on my one chance for love in my lifetime?

C’mon ladies, we all know who she was.

That person once told me that based on what they know about me, that the best way to get me to do something is to tell me that I can’t do it. That statement is correct. I am a very competitive person and I have a real hard time refusing a challenge. Knowing this, I’ve wondered on occasion if this one person intentionally made it difficult . . .  to make me take the challenge. Maybe this person wanted to know if I would keep trying no matter what. Maybe they NEEDED to know that for once in their life someone would fight for them no matter what they did. Maybe they NEEDED me to keep trying, no matter what. Maybe this was the biggest challenge in my life!

Damn, life is complicated and love is freakin’ impossible. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if life was like a comic book? When someone walks by you still see them and hear their words, but this white bubble appears above their head and their true thoughts are spelled out for you to see.

Anyway, I went with my gut and my gut said that if it was real then I would know it . . . . and I didn’t.

But then again, I don’t even know what it is I was supposed to know. I just told them to look into their life, figure out what they want, and if I have a role to give me a call.

I’ve had no call yet.

So, this one amazing person still walks the planet I share with them. Maybe they are happy that I finally understood their signals and walked away. Maybe they are oblivious to the fact that I ever cared. Maybe they are bitter because they were using me and now they lost their puppet.

But maybe, just maybe, they are sad that I quit.

Yup, life is complicated. But I believe that love exists and is possible, even for me. I guess I just found out when enough was enough for me.

BUT I WILL NEVER KNOW.

My Journal 157

I was recently asked why I don’t do Facebook, MySpace, or any of these odd web based social gathering programs. It’s simple. I have no urge to post crap about me for just anyone to read (I say that as I type here), I absolutely don’t understand what I am supposed to do (Yup, I set one up for about two weeks), and also because I still wonder if someone is out there looking for me.

I once asked if someone could explain the popularity of these pages to me. No one came forward. I am beginning to think it’s the old “lamb” scenario. Someone hears that this hot chick does MyFace and immediately joins, partly to try to see naked pictures of her but also to be in social compliance. Everyone just follows along . . . like lambs.

When I had one it was so freakin’ boring. I would check it about every third day and it looked exactly the same as the last time I looked. No one asked to be a friend, except some drop dead model with 3,000 friends (Sure, like I really buy that she picked me) and I had no idea how to find anyone, or even if there was anyone I wanted to find. It was a lot of advertisements and suggestions for games. I never figured out how to play the games, so that was a waste too.

There was a box where you could type something, and it would appear. But you could only type about a paragraph and you all know I can express a lot more than a paragraphs worth of crap. So I never really understood what I was supposed to do with that box.

It had a place where you could store your pictures. Frankly, I avoid pictures. I already know what I look like too, so if some lucky stiff happens to catch me in a photo I have no interest in seeing it; much less saving it for someone else to see. So I couldn’t figure out the purpose of that screen.

I didn’t use my real name either. I thought why? I didn’t want anyone to know who I am. There was a profile area. It was a bunch of questions that were sort of personal, like where I live and where I work, or what music I like. Hey, maybe it’s really a “pick-up” site. Why else would anyone give a crap about the music some stranger on FaceSpace likes?

Oh, I remember now. Someone did tell me that you could keep up with your friends. Huh? Listen people, if you have to keep a web page to keep up with someone do you think that maybe they are not really a friend? Of course the term friend means something very different on the internet I think. To me a friend is someone that knows the real me, and tolerates me in spite of it. Not someone that posts, “At the groomers”; like I really give a crap about someone going to the groomers.

And someone did tell me that they have a “check in” program. So if you walk into a bar and see someone you know, they could check you in to that bar. Basically then everyone in the world knows you’re an alcoholic or a bar fly. I don’t see the sense in that either.

So, you can have all the social internet gathering places. As for me, I’ll still walk up to a pretty girl and talk to her. If she is cool, I will turn on my charm and chat her out of her panties. Now let’s see someone do that over the internet. And when I send a drink to a lady, she actually gets to enjoy it; not just gaze at a picture of a drink.

So count me out, I’m no lamb!

My Journal 156

June 03. Yup, that was the last time you heard from this bum. Well, I threw up an old story and then wrote a poem to someone. But other than that . . . . did ya miss me?

Look, I took the big leap. Yup, I fell for a girl. So on June 01 I decided to bust my ass for 2 months to try to win her heart. I would do anything and everything I could to try to have something special with her. The two months ended Sunday.

Actually, I sort of considered two months of everything I had to be a “soft” target. What I mean is if I saw any signs of life, or even as much as a single action of interest, then I would have continued trying. But it was quite the opposite.

The funny part is that when she tried to hurt me a few weeks ago I told her that she couldn’t. And what she told me didn’t hurt. But she was persistent and eventually found a “kink in the armor” and drove a spike into it. She finally found a way to get to me. Shit, I was laid on a table once, had my back cut open with a knife, my spine severed with a hack saw, and a device placed right on the nerves in my back to inflict pain.

I’d rather do that again, thank you.

Oh well, I knew I wouldn’t die undefeated. I knew someday I would fail at something. Why not fail at this, right?

Anyway, I quit writing here as part of my SUPER SECRET MASTER PLAN. I figured if she could read about my world here then she had no reason to ever ask. And that was one of my goals in trying to seduce her. Get her to ask me one thing about my life. You see by asking it means you’re interested.

My Master Plan flopped. Duh?

But the good news is I found out how much I could count on the other people in my life. So . . . .

Lovelygirl, maybe you were right all along. I’ll always want to believe I was right, but I will give you a big maybe.

Niki-Cole, thanks for being so sweet.

Banana-rama, no matter when I called on you, you were there. I guess what you told me was right too. I’ll always be there for you.

Martel, my new friend. Shit, we talked ALL night many nights. Maybe not so much about me or you, but you made me think about other things. Well done! You proved to me that if someone cares they will respond, and if they don’t respond then they don’t really care.

Ok, enough with the mushy shit!

This Thursday night I am going out and getting a bit wild again. I even took Friday off so that I wouldn’t have to worry about showing up for work at 4 am. I may take one of my whirlwind road trips this weekend too. And then Monday . . . .

ARE YOUR READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?????

Yup, I will be at the Monday night game cheering for my beloved team, drinking like a fish, arguing the calls, and raising hell as much as I can. Whoop!

So be cool, hang tough, and thanks for waiting for me. I missed you guys!

Never A Goodbye

I still miss you…
But not like before.
The intense passion I felt,
Isn’t there anymore.

I still whisper your name…
Not as often as I used to.
Now it may be just once,
Before the week is through.

I still hear your voice…
Replaying in my mind.
But it’s slowly fading now,
Soon silence I will find.

I still long for you…
To feel your soft touch.
But it’s not like before,
I don’t dream it as much.

I still think about you…
And wonder how you are.
But my feelings have changed,
They just don’t go as far.

I can still see you sometimes…
Like you’re still here with me,
But it’s just a dying memory,
Of how I wished it to be.

You still have my heart.
Because I always felt you near.
Now, I’m hoping and praying,
That, this too, will disappear.

So this isn’t goodbye..
There’s just nothing else to say.
Everything I thought of you,
I guess will fade away.

Eat at Joe's

So, I am standing in line to take a leak. There are maybe 6 guys in front of me as I wait patiently. I am with my usual group, which you have already been introduced to.

That is when I notice you. You are in line for the ladies room, and either not paying attention or intentionally avoiding making eye contact with anyone. You have on a blue skirt, one of those that ride low on the hips and a full white button down top. I’m in my typical attire, boots, Levi jeans, and a bright Hawaiian shirt.

I call your name to get your attention. Your first look is that of horror, but it slowly moves to a comforting smile. We do the usual “Blah, blah” talk, but you do mention that you are on a date. We discuss the date scenario briefly. I can sense you are uncomfortable. I run through my assumption list and come up with the following:

You are afraid I will say or do something to mess up your date.

You are uncomfortable being around me, with my group.

You are uncomfortable being around me, period.

I decide to mess with you, so I think of the most obnoxious song I can which is Seal’s Touched by a Rose and I start to sing it to you …. loudly. Everyone in line is laughing, and you are very politely signaling me to stop. I don’t stop.

Finally, I see a smile on your face and you run at me. You cover my mouth with your hand to silence me and push me backwards down the hall. I notice the chef’s office and it is empty. I seize the moment, and your temporary moment of aggressiveness, and spin you into the office. Now I grab your hands and force them over and behind your head. I move in for a kiss, but you look over my shoulder and get this shocked look on your face.

I turn around to see a giant two-way mirror, showing us the restaurant. From the other side it is a mirror; from our side it is a window. We can see the entire restaurant. They cannot see us.

You look towards your table and see your date flirting with a waitress. I can see the anger build in your eyes. To me it was an innocent flirt, but to you it was obviously an issue.

We both stand there quietly looking out at the restaurant. You slowly turn your head towards me and ask if I want to have some “REAL FUN”. I admit to you that in all honesty, I was just going to mess with you, but not actually do anything. I didn’t feel it was appropriate what with you being on a date. You get this devilish grin on your face and ask again.

Sweetie, I am surprised I questioned you once. I wasn’t stupid enough to do it twice.

You move closer to me and begin to un-button your blouse. Underneath you have a VERY sheer white bra. Your nipples show clearly through the sheerness. They are wide, brown and your nipples are hard as a rock. I reach out and run my fingertip over each nipple as you reach behind you to unhook the bra. As it falls to the floor, each tit jumps out and then slides to the side. The size of your tits are amazing, each nipple is fully erect, and as you breathe they move side to side.

You kick of your sandals and stand flat-footed on the floor as you begin to undo my belt. You eyes are on me while you carefully unzip my pants and pull them down slightly, just enough to un-tuck my shirt. I begin with the top buttons as you begin with the bottom buttons. When finished you throw my shirt over your head and behind you.

That is when I notice the rack. On this rack is condiments and equipment, some of which are very interesting. There is also a microwave.

I pull my pants up so I can walk and head towards the rack. You slide up on a table with your back to the window. You begin to massage your nipples.

I grab a bottle of squeezable raspberry sauce. I stick it in the microwave and heat it for a few seconds. While it is running you put your head back and run one hand down under your skirt. You ask me to hurry up.

I retrieve the sauce and slowly squeeze some over your nipples. You moan slightly as the warm sauce runs down your chest. I begin below your tit and run my tongue up and over your nipple, licking up the sauce as I go. You run your fingers through the sauce also and put some against your lips. You pull my head form your nipple and press you lips against mine. The sauce drips from both our lips as you tongue enters my mouth.

And just that quick you push me aside and trot over to the rack. You grab a can of whip cream and begin shaking it. You mention something about raspberries needing whip cream and you spray the cream on your breast making a whip cream bikini top. You slide your finger into the cream and taste it. Then you offer some to me.

You are standing there in a blue skirt, raspberry sauce all over you; whip crème tits and your finger against your lips. It was the hottest vision I had ever seen.

Of course I walk over. I push you against the rack and begin to lick off the crème. After a few seconds, you grab my boxers and shoot this now rather cold whip cream down my shorts. It is enough to throw me off, as you pull away and run back to the table by the two-way mirror.

You watch, as your date keeps looking towards the restroom, apparently anxious for your return. I walk up beside you, looking towards my group, which still hasn’t realized I have left. We stand there for a moment, covered in cream and sauce just quietly staring, each with our own concerns.

You turn to me and look up at me. You place your hands on my face, rice up on your toes and gently kiss me.

“Make love to me one last time, before we have to go our own way” you whisper.

We stand there staring at each other. We both thought the last time was the last time. But this will be it. Two people who love to be with each other, but can’t.

“I know what you like, you know what I like, and we’re both good at it ……”

You speak as you back up to the table. You lay on the table with your head hanging off the side. I walk around and drop my boxers to my knees. As I walk up to the table, your head is upside down hanging over the edge. You reach out and grab my dick and slide it into your mouth. I place my hands along side your head and begin stroking you.

But, what I want more is to taste your pussy. So I grab your hips and slide you down the table. I climb up on the table with my thighs on each side of your head. You never release your “lip-lock” on my prick. I pull your skirt up exposing your cunt. I lower myself down and run my tongue along the inside of your thigh. You squirm slightly.

I stay on my knees, purposely not lowering my hips down on your face. This makes you raise your head up to suck me. As I slide my hands under your butt to raise your pussy up to my face, I glance back at you. I love watching my dick slide in and out of your mouth, yet this time you are looking out the window while jerking and sucking me.

I slide my tongue across your cunt. I see your scar, which I have fallen in love with over our time together. I stop just long enough to kiss it one last time. In my mind it is a beauty mark.

I slide my tongue slowly back to your pussy and push it in as far as I can. I curl it up and slide it out. I begin to feel a rush and I lower my hips down to your face and begin to start pumping you lips. I locate your spot and begin to run my tongue across it, picking up the pace with each passing second.

I slide one hand under your butt and raise you more, while gently sliding my finger in your ass. I bring my other hand up to your clit and start using my finger to massage you while I again bury my tongue deep inside of you.

I am fucking your mouth feverishly now; you have your hands on my butt pulling me down towards you. I can feel you starting to quiver and I know you are close. I use my tongue and my finger and quicken the pace even more. My dick starts to swell and my thrusts are becoming greater. I feel the back of your throat on my downward thrusts.

You begin to moan and you fold your legs up and begin to squeeze my head with your thighs. You move your hands down to my head and run your fingers through my hair. I feel you tighten up and you squeeze my head tighter while you push down on my head.

You let out a deep, “dick in you mouth” moan and briefly stop sucking on me. You juices begin to pour out of your pussy, and I am getting every drop. The I begin to feel myself beginning to cum. I am fucking you so fast and you suck me deeper into your mouth. I cum tremendously and you bring your hands up grabbing my dick and squeezing it and sucking like a vacuum. I can fill myself filling up your mouth, yet you keep on pumping me and sucking hard. I rise up to my knees and watch you suck the last drop out of me.

We roll around on the table and kiss, deeply and passionately. You gaze out the window and suddenly sit up quickly.

“He’s looking for me!”

I roll over to look out the window and I see your date heading towards the hallway we escaped down.

We both jump off the table and begin to collect our clothes. Your date begins calling your name and knocking on the restroom door down the hall. We are scrambling to find everything when he begins heading down the hall towards us.

We dash behind the door of the chef’s office just as a shadow appears in the doorway.

“Eve?”

I am quiet as a church mouse when I hear an eek from you. You are laughing and holding your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. I realize it is funny. I am standing behind a door in green boxers and white socks, with whip cream dripping down my leg while you stand topless, wearing only your skirt and looking at a white blouse covered in raspberry sauce. It is funny …… until I see your panties lying in the middle of the room.

We both go into a panic. Your date is looking directly at your panties. He walks over and picks them up. We slide a bit further behind the door. He looks around the room, and then puts the panties up to his nose. He then stuffs them in his pocket, looks around again as if he is making sure no one sees him, and then he leaves.

You look up at me and state, “He didn’t even know they were mine, the freak!”

I explode laughing, and you join in.

We walk over to the rack and find some “wet wipes”. I begin cleaning the cream off of me while you work on your blouse. I use my wipe to get some sauce off of your face. I then begin wiping down your breasts, which are now relaxed. You in turn begin to wipe the cream from my limp dick. As I rub you, your nipples become hard. As you rub me, I begin to come back to life.

You look up at me and you have “THAT” look again. I explain to you that I am nervous because we have been away from our groups for a while, and they may start missing us. I remind you that your date is searching the building for you.

You grab my dick and whisper “How quick can you fuck me?”

I am completely alive now and your tits are begging for attention. I wrap my arms around your butt and lift you off the ground. I pull you towards my crotch and you shove my prick inside your already wet pussy.

I stand there, balancing you at my waist. I am rocking front to back and you are beginning to bounce in my arms. Your head goes back and your tits bounce up and down as we bounce. I love watching your tits.

************************************************************************

I return to my table, walking about 10 steps behind you. As usual, no one knows I was gone. I glance over towards you. Your discussion seems to be going well, you decided to say you were ill and that the stain on your blouse was where you got sick. He probably won’t get a chance to notice you are not wearing panties.

Our eyes meet one last time; I smile – inside and out.

My Journal 155

An interview with a mad man.

“Triumph – Lay it on the Line”

Every listened to that song?

It is one of my all time favorites, but I haven’t heard it in a while. A friend of mine gave me a compilation CD this week and this was one of the songs. There were a lot of great tunes, but when this one began it hit me square in the face.

Ever have a song that just grabbed you?

Every now and then a song does that for me. This was one of those times. Let me explain why. I guess for most of my life I was the kind of person that “went for it”. Imagine a boxing match. One fighter is moving and dodging, carefully placing his punches while keeping up a strong defense and avoiding being hit by his opponent. The other fighter just moves one direction . . . forward. He doesn’t care about defense, dodging or being hit. He just moves in, takes his punishment, and finally explodes a monster punch.

Are you one of these guys?

I’ve always been that second guy in life. Wow, quickly looking back I’ve taken a bunch of blows. Some led to painful times while other led to embarrassment and humiliation. But it seemed like no matter what the blow led to, I just lived with it. Furthermore, I would do the exact same thing the next time around.

Is that determination or insanity?

Most people learn from their failures. But is pain or embarrassment a failure if the objective is reached? I guess my philosophy was that as long as the goal is achieved then the cost is negligible. Note that I used the word “was”. That one word is the impetus for this journal. I mentioned in a recent journal how that slowly over time, and without realizing it, I developed patterns. As I was listening to this song and thinking to myself that this is definitely me; I realized that slowly over time I have become less direct and more of a dodger. That song is no longer about me!

Do you wonder why that is?

I have no idea when or how it happened. But today I stop and think before I speak. I am concerned about what people will think of me and my word choice. Maybe I just got punched so many times that I unconsciously drifted into being discreet. I recall a great line from another movie I love, which is Rocky II. Balboa has decided that he won’t fight anymore. He is now married and has a kid on the way; so he wants a normal job. During one interview the owner tells Balboa that he has no education or skills; and asks him why he doesn’t just go back to fighting. His response sort of may explain my predicament.

“Have you ever been hit in the face 200 times a night? After a while it sort of starts to sting!”

Is this change a good thing or a bad thing?

Hmmm, that question is a tough one. When I was direct and forceful I did take a lot of blows, but they didn’t faze me much back then. I always knew where I stood with everyone and there was never any confusion or questions. I REALLY LIKED THAT. As you already know, the worst thing you can do to me is leave me not knowing the truth. I guess that now my face doesn’t sting anymore. But the trade off is that now I have SO MANY things that confuse me and that I question; but can’t resolve. That is maddening!

So I guess the real question is do you prefer pain and humiliation, or maddening confusion?

I’ve always been told that I was definitely not normal. The common words associated with describing me have been “off”, “strange” and of course “crazy”. I believe that other people see the real you and what you see in yourself may be a skewed image. If that is true then perhaps I am partially insane. If I accept that as true, then going mad shouldn’t be a struggle. My challenge is that I am also aggressive, and when I get REALLY confused I tend to explode. When this happens I usually dump on an innocent person simply because they are nearby. That’s not fair or good.

It sounds like you are choosing the pain and humiliation?

Well, that’s not necessarily true either. I mean maybe I did just get tired of pain and humiliation. If that is the case then we could make the argument that I need to put my big boy pants back on and be a man. But maybe this change is because I found some people that I genuinely care about, which is something I’m not accustomed to feeling. Maybe I don’t want to have them leave my world because I’m in their face too much or too forcefully. Maybe I am adjusting myself because my surroundings have changed.

So, how does your prognosis play into this?

That could be a very real point. Maybe my problem is progressing and I am slipping deeper into empty memories and misguided thoughts. Maybe I am going insane faster than my brain is dying. I mean I am dying anyway, so perhaps I should just become a recluse and leave people with the memories of me they way I was, and not what I am becoming. I’ve been alone most of my life so that would be an easy out for me.

Would that really be fair to those that care about you?

I guess if they get pissed for my actions, well I won’t know about it. But then again all we have in life is what we leave behind. I do think that over the years I touched some lives and made my mark a few times. But I hope people will find comfort with the words I leave behind. I write like I am. I keep it confusing and distant, to protect them. But if someone took the time to really try to understand my words, then they will understand my actions. But so many people are so busy with their life; I doubt this will happen often. For those that think I did this for me, well they obviously didn’t know me and won’t care about my actions. So my answer is yes, it would be fair to all.

Have you considered clearing up the confusion before this time comes?

I think about it all day every day. Even though I hadn’t realized I had changed and possibly caused this confusion myself, it is still always on my mind. Sometimes I just want to grab people and shake the shit out of them. And sometimes I want someone to care enough to grab me and shake the shit out of me too. I guess I don’t know if I will do this or not. I’m so tired of pain.

It sounds to me like you want to give up. Do you want to give up?

Gee, it does sound that way doesn’t it. When I first found out, I boldly stated that I will survive this. I mean look at all the times I should have died and didn’t. I’m not a quitter and I still have plenty left to do; and something I need to do. So I’m not giving up on me. I am debating how to interact with people. And I am perplexed if I am having a rational thought anymore; that’s all. I’ve always said I trust my gut and nothing else. But I wonder if my brain can’t interpret the message my gut is sending anymore.

So you are not giving up . . . but you are running, right?

Sure I am running. But the question is am I running from something or running to something. You seem to think that I am running from being honest and direct; and that the reason is either that I am fed up with being punched or that I have people around me that I don’t want to lose. And maybe all that is true. But the fucked up part is that no matter what I do, I lose them anyway. If I can realize that, then doesn’t it make sense that I could be running to move them out of the way of the next punch? Maybe it's my one last brave action. This is where I need my thoughts to be certain, but they just can’t get there. My brain is fading fast. I can't see people in my mind anymore. I know a name, but can't place their face to them. It's very hard to lose them while they are still here

Ok, tomorrow will you take the punch yourself or dodge it to save face?

My world has always been about the here and now. I’ve never worried much about tomorrow. So I have no idea what I will do tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

Wow!

Tomorrow!

That used to be what kept me going. I guess when you know you only have so many more tomorrows to go, you immediately view today differently. I guess that is why people are always too busy; they have their tomorrow. And tomorrow they can smell the roses, watch the sunset, tell someone that they care, or take a walk down a beach. So they put people off, shut them out, and miss out on today. Then they wake up one morning and realize that they have lost someone they loved. Now that is sad.

Maybe I should just tell them that tomorrow isn’t a guarantee.

I have to go now, I have things to do.

Wait! I have one last “personal” question. Do you think that you will be missed?

Shit! If someone didn’t miss me today, then they damn sure won’t miss me tomorrow!

I really need to go now, what do I owe you?

ONE MORE FIGHT?

My Journal 154

Here is a funny anecdote for you. I told you I was giving up on discussing the events that happen in my life, like my weekend adventures. Yet I have received emails from most of you asking me those specific questions. I guess I feel more comfortable discussing my private life via email, and only with those that ask about it. But I will reconsider my previous decision.

One thing I have noticed is that once I stopped writing about my adventures, you have all been contacting me more frequently. That I enjoy. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own BS that I forget to stay in touch, that’s when I am thrilled to hear from you. This thought will also play into my reconsideration of my previous decision.

Do I sound like a lawyer or is it just me?

I was listening to a baseball game yesterday and the old movie BULL DURHAM came to mind. There is a scene where Kevin Costner is stating all the things he loves, like long soft kisses that last for days. So today I decided to list all my loves, but since it is me I will limit this list to things I love to do with a female that I care about.

Things I Love:

Long, private conversations where I can learn about your life, your loves, and you fears.

Holding hands, walking arm in arm, hugging, or other forms of innocent touching.

Dancing.

Watching you laugh.

Reading your reactions to things I do and analyzing what you may be thinking.

Confusing you by hiding what I am thinking and watching you struggle to figure me out.

Memorizing everything about you.

Putting you totally at ease, and watching as you relax.

Watching how you interact with outside stimuli, such as friends that pass by, calls that come in and messages that you receive.

First kisses.

Feeling happy inside when I see you.

Being nervous.

Seeing how you dressed, knowing you would see me, and trying to figure out if you wore it for me.

Asking personal questions to see your reaction.

There are probably more, but this is what came to mind quickly. Now, if you will excuse me for a moment I am going to kick back and reminisce about being out with each of you and remembering those moments.

Ok, I’m back.

I’ve got a LOT on my mind so that short break was nice. Like the old saying goes, “Some shit never dies!”

Lastly, I’ve got a Frank story. If you recall, Frank was the guy I met in Afghanistan. He was Army Special Operations. We were exact opposites except for the fact that we both we brutally honest and direct. So we became friends. He lived in Kemah for the past 15 years, so we were able to keep in touch. He was the one person I completely trusted.

(No offense ladies)

When he started his business, he asked me if I wanted to make a few bucks here and there. So I went buy one weekend to meet some of his guys. Now Frank knew the story about me in Africa. So when one of the guys questioned me as to how I would be able to function when I was weak, sick, or injured; Frank spoke up. He told the guy I was held for over 10 days. The guy looked at me and asked, “Wow, how was that?” Frank gave a reply that ended all conversation and enamored me into the group. He turned to walk back to the house and simply said:

“LOTTA PEOPLE DIED”

Have a SUPER weekend . . . . and think about me once. (Twice would be better)

a-ya  a-s-gi  v-hna-I  ni-hi  a-sv-na-s-di  ~  a-ga-li-ha